


Well, This Is Awkward

by Riona



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 16:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10338670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riona/pseuds/Riona
Summary: Being on the road together, it turns out, can lead to uncomfortable situations.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's possible you've seen the second scene in this fic before; it was originally posted as a [kinkmeme fill](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/841.html?thread=234313) back in January (I was the second filler). I wanted to post it here, but I felt it needed more substance first, and then I remembered a Prompto/Gladio/Noctis scenario I've wanted to see for months. I had fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

They spend their first night on the road in a rented caravan, at a service station called Hammerhead. It’s not much to look at – a garage, a shop, a diner – but there are some things that make it stick in Prompto’s mind. The owner’s granddaughter. The quality of the food; it’s not royal kitchen stuff, but it’s way better than Prompto was expecting from a place like this.

The fact that it’s the first place he sees Noct naked.

He and Noct head into the caravan before the other two; Prompto’s exhausted, because he doesn’t have the stamina training of the rest of the guys (just another small reminder that he’ll never really be one of them), and Noct is just a really big fan of sleep. But they can’t just throw themselves into bed; it’s been way too hot all day, and sleeping is going to be really gross if they don’t wash first.

“You mind if I take the shower first?” Noct asks, already peeling off his shirt. He asks the question... not in a _nasty_ way, but it doesn’t really feel like a question. It’s clear it hasn’t even crossed his mind that Prompto might object. Prompto guesses there are some things you get used to as the crown prince, and ‘never having to wait for anyone else to get out of the shower’ is probably one of them.

It’s a little tempting to demand first go, just to see how confused Noct gets. Prompto doesn’t have the guts. “Go for it.”

Noct yanks off his pants as well, and... wait, what?

“Um,” Prompto says. He tries to find the words for the question he so suddenly and urgently needs to ask. “Um?”

Noct looks at him with an expression that says _is something wrong?_ and not _I’ve just realised I’ve somehow accidentally stripped in front of you, what a terrible mistake_. He is extremely naked. Has he not noticed?

“You know this... isn’t the shower, right?” Prompto asks.

Noct looks around the cramped little caravan bedroom. _Way_ too cramped, suddenly. Definitely too cramped for Prompto to be in with _his nude prince friend_. “Yeah, I’d kind of guessed this wasn’t the shower.”

“Okay. Good to know we’re clear on that.” He’s blushing, he’s definitely blushing. “So, uh.” This is maybe a terrifying question. “What happens now?”

“I go into the room that has the shower in it,” Noctis says, looking oddly at Prompto, because oh, yeah, _Prompto_ is being the weird one here. “What, you want regular updates on the showering process?”

“No, I’m good,” Prompto says, hastily. “You go. Uh, have fun.”

Ignis comes in while the water is running, thankfully clothed. Prompto waves him over urgently.

“Is something wrong?” Ignis asks.

“Noct!” Prompto hisses. “Took his clothes off! In front of me!” Should he be keeping this to himself? He is not even _close_ to strong enough to keep it to himself.

Ignis appears to consider that for a moment. “In what context?”

“He was – he was getting ready to go in the shower, but that’s not _normal_ , is it? I mean, I’d go in the bathroom before – I wouldn’t just strip off when you guys were watching! I don’t know what he’s trying to do! I feel _weird_ , Ignis!”

“Ah,” Ignis says. “I think I see what’s happened here.”

“Can you tell me?” Prompto asks, desperately. “Is it scary?”

Ignis laughs a little. “Not at all. It was exactly what it appeared to be. Noct was preparing to have a shower.”

“In front of me,” Prompto says. “With all his...” He makes a gesture that probably doesn’t convey any of the mess in his head right now. “ _Skin_.”

“He is a prince, Prompto,” Ignis says, more gently. “And we have been at war for a very long time. He is used to bathing with guards in attendance. I wouldn’t think anything of it.”

Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.

Right. Okay. Noct isn’t trying to flirt in the most direct way possible; he just thinks of being nude in front of other people as a normal thing. That makes things less uncomfortable. Right?

It’s a relief, right?

-

“Makes things easier if you move your feet,” Gladio says.

Prompto doesn’t seem interested in making things easier. Prompto generally doesn’t seem aware of much. He’s draped against Gladio’s side, murmuring contentedly to himself.

“You’re such a lightweight,” Gladio mutters.

“’m not _drunk_.”

“Say that again with more vowels,” Gladio suggests, heaving Prompto through the door of the Leville. “Maybe I’ll believe you. You owe me for dragging your ass back here.”

“Mmmm,” Prompto hums, pressing his face into Gladio’s arm. Gladio can feel the vibration in his throat. “You’re so strong.”

“Yeah, I know. C’mon.”

It’s a pain to get him up the fancy staircase; kid probably weighs less than Gladio’s sword, but Gladio’s sword doesn’t do so much damn shifting around. Eventually, though, he’s lifting Prompto onto his bed.

Gladio’s planning to head back and join the others at the bar, because _some people_ who can hold their alcohol haven’t had nearly enough to drink, but Prompto grabs for his arm as he moves away, flails, falls off the bed, and... okay, might be best not to leave him alone right now.

Gladio heaves him up onto the bed again, not helped by Prompto trying to put his hands all over Gladio’s face. He tugs up Prompto’s shirt and inspects his hip, where he landed hardest. No external signs of damage. Probably going to bruise. He’d better check nothing’s broken.

He presses his fingers against Prompto’s hip. “You feel anything?”

Prompto shifts closer to Gladio, with a little sigh. Gladio firmly pushes him back towards the centre of the bed. He’s not falling off again.

It’s not an answer, but it’s not a cry of pain, either. Prompto’s probably fine. Just have to watch him and make sure he doesn’t end up choking on his own vomit.

Gladio tries to go for the chair, but Prompto makes an indistinct noise of protest and grabs for him again. Fine. He sits down on the side of the bed, turned inwards so he can keep an eye on Prompto.

“Get some sleep,” Gladio says.

“Don’t want sleep.”

“I’m not here to worry about what you want,” Gladio says. “All I care about is what you need. You need to get some sleep.”

Prompto reaches out for Gladio again, but he lets his hand fall short. He’s quiet for a while. Always a little weird when the kid sees a silence and doesn’t immediately jump to fill it. Gladio would take it as a sign that he’s actually trying to sleep, only Prompto is just looking at him, and closing his eyes seems like a pretty important step.

“Do you ever look at guys?” Prompto asks at last, quietly.

Huh? “Nope. Never met a guy in my life.”

“Yeah.” Prompto rolls onto his side, facing away from him. “Guess you wouldn’t.”

Does he ever _look at guys?_ What kind of question...?

Oh.

“You got something to tell me?” Gladio asks.

“No,” Prompto mutters. “I was fine until Noct went and...” He groans, trying to bury his face in the pillow.

“Hey.” Gladio grabs Prompto’s side, planning to pull him back over to face him, and something in the way Prompto jerks when he touches him tells Gladio this might not just be about Noct. Shit.

Prompto takes a deep, shuddering breath, still not turning to look at him. “I mean, I owe you, you said I owe you, right? For – for – and I know I’m not a girl, but I could probably still make it feel good – I mean, I’d try.” Gladio can feel him shaking under his hand. “I’ve never – before. And I know you’re probably huge, like, wow, _huge_. But I’d try really hard.”

Gladio takes a moment to try to process that. “Huh.”

To process that, and _not_ to picture it, because it isn’t happening.

“You’re drunk,” Gladio says.

“No, I’m okay. I’m okay, I swear.”

“I’m not doing anything with someone who can’t even walk straight.”

“I _can_ , I’ll show you—”

Prompto lurches up out of the bed, and Gladio moves sharply to catch him before he falls, and – okay, now he’s got Prompto pressed up against him, that’s somehow become the situation. Prompto is breathing open-mouthed into his collarbone, and how the hell did he somehow manage to drag Prompto all the way here without once thinking about how _close_ he is, how warm and alive and...

Gladio’s feeling too hot under his open jacket, it’s always too hot in Lestallum, and normally he’d shrug the jacket off, but that seems like a bad idea right now.

“I’d be good,” Prompto mumbles, pressing kisses along the beak of Gladio’s tattoo.

“Get some sleep.”

Prompto shakes his head, holding on to Gladio like it’ll kill him if he lets go. “No.”

“Get some sleep,” Gladio says, lowering him back down onto the bed, “and we’ll see how you feel in the morning.”

In the morning, Prompto doesn’t remember a thing.

-

It was a mistake to spar now. There’s too much tension between them after the Trial of Titan, too much genuine anger. Gladio always says he won’t hold back. This time, barely managing to stay on his feet, Noctis can tell he meant it.

He usually does well against Gladio. Gladio’s strong, but he’s slow. Noctis wears himself out faster, though; he knows that Gladio is going to break through his defences soon, and he’s going to hit _hard_.

The blow, when it comes, is more than he’d braced himself for. Noctis hits the stone of the haven, panting and cursing, and Gladio is on top of him, pinning him down, and—

A moment passes. It can’t be more than a few seconds. It feels longer. Noctis is strangely aware of the rapid-fire beating of his heart.

“You should have warped out when you knew you were flagging,” Gladio snarls.

“Thought you didn’t approve of running away.”

“I don’t _approve_ of useless risks. If this had been a real fight, I could have killed you.”

Noctis is suddenly struck by the surreal fact that Gladio could kill him right now. A little more pressure on Noctis’s throat for a few seconds too long, and everything Noctis is could end right here, under his hands. Just the thought changes his breathing, shallows it out.

“ _Noct_. You listening? You could be _dead_.”

Noctis tries to swallow, to ease his dry throat, but it’s tough with Gladio’s forearm across his neck. “Yeah, but how many people with your muscles are actually gonna attack me?”

Gladio makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “If you aren’t gonna take this seriously, at least one.”

It feels like white noise is creeping into Noctis’s mind, blurring out everything but his awareness of Gladio’s body pinning him down, Gladio’s breathing, harsh-edged from fighting. He tells himself he’s here, but somehow this moment doesn’t feel real. It feels like he’s dreaming, like he could surge up and kiss Gladio and they could fuck right here on the rock and there wouldn’t be a single consequence.

That’s... not really a thought he was expecting.

It is not, it turns out, an easy thought to ignore.

-

Prompto ends up heading back to the haven alone; this isn’t an area that’s known for its dangerous wildlife, so he doesn’t feel too bad about leaving Ignis to finish gathering ingredients without help. Maybe a little bad, given that Ignis is also the guy who has to cook for them. But Prompto’s conscience is just as sleepy as the rest of him, so he’ll endure the guilt.

As he nears the haven, his step falters. Noct and Gladio stayed out of the ingredient-gathering expedition; they were supposed to be setting up the tent.

They are not setting up the tent.

Prompto freezes up, suddenly wide awake.

Okay. Maybe this isn’t what it looks like. Maybe it’s just... naked sparring. He already knows Noct is weirdly unconcerned about nudity, after all, and Gladio is medically incapable of wearing a shirt. Maybe this is just something totally normal the two of them do.

They sound like they could be sparring! Those are sparring noises, right?

They’re not sparring. Prompto’s not the most experienced fighter of their group, maybe, but he’s pretty sure sparring doesn’t use that much tongue.

“Oh, hey!” he says, too brightly, and immediately he has no idea why he’s said it. Back away! He could have _backed away_ and come back later and pretended he hadn’t seen anything! Why does he never have the _good_ ideas until it’s too late?

Noct jerks away from Gladio like he’s suddenly realised Gladio is a carrot. In a way, after the stripping incident, it’s reassuring just to know that Noct is embarrassed too. Prompto guesses he’s not used to having guards around for _this_ kind of thing.

Although Gladio is technically a guard, isn’t he?

Okay. This is a weird road for his thoughts to go down, and he really doesn’t need that when weirdness is already happening _right here in front of him_.

“I’m really sorry,” Prompto says, taking a step back. “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“Prompto,” Gladio says. He looks stricken in a way that Prompto _really_ isn’t used to from him, oh man.

“It’s fine! It’s fine. This is fine. I’ll just, uh. Go. And not tell anyone about this.” Why is he not looking away? He should be looking away, he should _definitely_ have looked away by now. “So you... don’t have to have me executed or anything.”

A moment passes. Prompto is still looking.

“Executed?” Noct asks.

“You know,” Prompto says. “To protect your royal secrets. Wait, does _everyone_ know about this? Is it totally obvious? Was I the only one—”

“Prompto,” Noct says, “I’m not going to execute you.”

Oh. Well. That’s good. Even if Prompto kind of wishes Noct would stop breathing. Wait, no, he definitely doesn’t wish that, but he wishes Noct would stop breathing like _that_ when he’s talking to him.

Prompto is very aware that they haven’t made a move to cover themselves. Apparently the being-seen-on-top-of-each-other thing bothers them a lot more than the being-seen-with-no-clothes one. Was the palace of Insomnia just, like... a nudist colony? Is Ignis used to being seen naked as well? Prompto’s always kind of imagined that Ignis climbed out of his mother’s womb in a three-piece suit and glasses.

“We were just sparring,” Gladio says. “It got out of hand.” He scratches the back of his neck with a hand that, in a _normal_ walking-in-on-your-friends scenario, would be covering his shame right now. “Don’t know if you’re still into me, but I figured I owe you an explanation.”

Noct looks sharply from Gladio to Prompto. Prompto chokes.

“You and Gladio?” Noct asks.

“ _No!_ ” Prompto protests. “That’s not a thing, that’s never been a—”

Well, yeah, he _admires_ Gladio, anyone would, but—

Something is tugging at the back of his mind. A memory that occasionally demands his attention, and which Prompto always tries to ignore, because he has a weird feeling things are going to get really uncomfortable if he looks too closely at it. But, hey, things are really uncomfortable anyway, so he might as well.

It was in Lestallum, he thinks. Prompto was... yeah, pretty drunk. And Gladio helped him to bed, and Prompto tried to...

Prompto can feel his face blazing red. They could probably tie him to a pole and use him as a beacon. When he tries to say something, it comes out as a squeak. “Did we...?”

“You were too drunk for it,” Gladio says. “You remember?”

Wow, okay, great! Prompto can never look at his friends again! Except maybe Ignis. Ignis might still be okay.

“Anyway,” Gladio says, “me and Noct here, we’re just blowing off steam. It’s not like we’re in an exclusive relationship or anything.”

Prompto hesitates. “Um. What are you saying?”

He’s trying to keep his voice steady. It isn’t really working.

“Are you trying to hit on Prompto?” Noct asks. “Right _now?_ ”

“What? Not like I’m asking him to join us.”

It seems kind of amazing that Prompto can still blush when his blood has decided it’s urgently needed elsewhere. The sounds of their not-sparring are replaying in his head, and suddenly he’s thinking: what if he could hear that again, what if _he_ could be the cause of those sounds?

What if he could stop thinking about this?

“Not unless you’d both be into it,” Gladio says.

Noct frowns slightly. Looks at Prompto in a weirdly heavy, appraising way that makes Prompto feel like he’s been hit with a fire and an ice spell at the same time.

Prompto suddenly becomes aware that, without conscious thought, he’s been edging slowly closer to the haven.

“Here?” Prompto asks. His voice sounds slightly too high-pitched. “On the rock? Just... on the bare rock? I mean, I don’t want to offend anyone by turning this _very_ unexpected invitation down, but that looks really uncomfortable.”

Noct stands up, slowly, still looking at Prompto in that strangely intense way. “I guess it’s time to pitch the tent, then.”

Oh, man, Prompto is in so much trouble.

-

Ignis pokes his head inside the tent right when Prompto is making a _really_ embarrassing whimpering noise, and Prompto practically dies on the spot.

“My apologies,” Ignis says, briefly casting his eyes over the scene. “I merely wished to ask whether you wanted dualhorn or anak tonight.”

The three of them gape at him, frozen, wordless.

“I’ll use my own judgement, then,” Ignis says. “I’ll make double quantities; I imagine you’ll be rather hungry.”

He withdraws outside.

Prompto, Noct and Gladio stare at each other.


End file.
